


Never More Free

by Spiderlily_Writes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Trust, Vibrators, loving relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: Marianne spends so much of her time managing other peoples' expectations. She works so hard. She does so much. Every once in a while, it's nice to just let someone else take control.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Kudos: 48
Collections: Marihilda NSFW Week!





	Never More Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my fic for MariHilda NSFW week, Day 5: Orgasm Control

“ _Good girl_ , Marianne,” Hilda purrs in her ear. Marianne can feel her breath, hot and heady, against the side of her face, and she shivers. “Good girl, you’re so close, aren’t you? You’re so, so close.”

“Mhm!” she groans, desperately, feeling her peak approaching. Marianne arches her back and her next words come out in a high, breathy cry. “Hilda, please, this time. Please let me—”

Hilda clicks her tongue disapprovingly and it makes Marianne’s heart sink. She feels the vibrator pull away from her, and she lets out a low, pitiful whine in response. “Come on, Mari, you know better than to ask for it. You don’t come ‘til I tell you to.”

“But…but Hilda, you’ve…um…gotten me so close, at least four times now. Please?” she begs. Marianne can feel tears of frustration wetting her blindfold, and she tugs at the cuffs keeping her wrists and ankles bound to their bedposts. She can feel Hilda’s hair brushing against her, tickling her stomach, over her breasts, and she hears Hilda hum.

More hair falls to her chest, and there’s a wet, demanding kiss to her right breast, which makes her whine. “Miss Marianne,” Hilda says, her voice coming from further down the bed. “Didn’t you ask me for this? Didn’t you say you wanted me to be in total control?”

Marianne hesitates for a moment, then nods. Hilda snickers.

“Come on, I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” Marianne squeaks as Hilda leans down to nibble at her thigh. “Yes, I wanted that. But—”

“What color?” Hilda interrupts, and Marianne pauses. If she says red, Hilda will untie her immediately. If she says yellow, Hilda will have mercy and let her come, but…that’ll feel like giving up, won’t it? She can do this.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “G-Green.”

The vibrator turns on again, she can hear it in Hilda’s hand, and even just the sound of it is enough to give her goosebumps. Four times, Hilda’s brought her to the edge of climax tonight, and four times she’s been denied release. It’s so, so frustrating. She’s sensitive to the point that touches are almost painful, she’s had Hilda’s hands on every inch of her body, and even _inside_ her body, a couple of times.

And she loves it.

Marianne isn’t the type to cave under pressure. She has a tendency, sometimes too much of one, to bear whatever is placed on her shoulders. She works very, very hard, tries to be liked as much as she can, and is constantly trying to manage the way she comes across to others to keep them from judging her. All of these things are holdovers from when she was a sad, lonely young woman, desperate for connection.

If she could just work harder, just _push_ , a little bit more, just manage a little bit better, she could be happy. She’s told herself that for years, and it wasn’t until she met Hilda that she began to feel like maybe, just maybe, she was wrong.

Because no matter what Marianne does, how she fails, how she falls, no matter what silly things she says, Hilda is always there. She’s a safe place to land, and that’s a strange feeling for Marianne, even now. All of the love she had ever received felt so conditional and then, suddenly, with Hilda, it wasn’t anymore. It isn’t, anymore. She trusts Hilda, more than she’s ever trusted anyone. And that’s how they ended up like _this_.

They’d both tiptoed around it for a couple of months. Hilda would mention having seen a video online, or Marianne would leave a book of erotica in plain view in her apartment, or Hilda would talk about something one of her _friends_ did, that sort of thing. It wasn’t until Hilda decided to break their stalemate and bring home a set of cuffs that they were both honest with themselves.

Marianne relishes these encounters; they’re often her favorite part of any day on which they happen. Because when Hilda puts cuffs around her wrists and ankles, or a gag in her mouth, or a blindfold over her face; any time Hilda takes that control away from her, she feels like it’s a weight off her shoulders.

She doesn’t have to work so hard. She doesn’t have to _manage_ anything. She doesn’t have to be something for someone else. There’s no worry about work or relationships or deadlines or _anything_ , the only thing that matters is following Hilda’s lead, doing what she’s told, and simply _being_.

Marianne knows it would sound cheesy to say it out loud, but when Hilda trusses her up and tosses her on the bed, restricts her so tightly, and gives her orders to follow? She never feels more free than she does in those moments.

So she wants to make Hilda proud. She doesn’t want to bow out, unless she has to. And she wants Hilda to know what lengths she’s willing to go to for her. Because she loves her, and because she’s grateful, and because she _can_.

She’s drawn back into the moment when Hilda brushes the vibrator lightly against her lips, the powerful _buzzing_ of the thing tickling slightly. She purses her lips, trying to rid herself of the odd, lingering, tingly sensation, and Hilda giggles at her frustration.

“You hadn’t said anything for a moment, Mari, wanted to make sure you weren’t zoning out,” Hilda says, lightly, but Marianne knows her well enough to hear the concern under the words. She blushes.

“No, I was just…thinking.”

Hilda hums. “Hm. Nasty habit. I try to avoid it. What about?” she asks, trailing her fingernails down Marianne’s chest and stomach in a way that makes her squirm.

“Just…I love you. A lot. And I appreciate that you do this for me,” Marianne says, and the words come so easily that she can’t believe it was ever hard to say them.

“For you? I mean, you’re welcome, but I don’t just do it for _you_.” Hilda snorts. “Do you think I don’t love to see you all tied up and needy and pretty and flushed and—oh, yeah, see? Flushed. Just like that.”

Marianne feels her face heat up even more. “A-anyways, that was all. Now um…”

“Oh, right. You’re like, super pent up and horny right now, huh?”

“Don’t say it like that! It sounds…dirty.” Marianne complains.

“Okay, I won’t. _You_ say it. Tell me how you feel. If you’re really, really honest with me, I might let you get off this time,” Hilda teases, suggestively.

There it is. Ordinarily, she would _never_ be able to say something like that. But here? Now? Because it’s Hilda? And because she needs it so, _so_ badly?

“I…I’m very pent up. And h-ho…” she begins, embarrassed. “Horny.” The word feels dirty on Marianne’s tongue, like she should go wash her mouth out with soap. It’s not elegant or pretty, it’s _needy_. But then, so is she.

The vibrator finds its way back to her poor, tortured clit and she cries out as it presses down, then gasps at Hilda pulls it away. “Pretty good! That was pretty good, Mari. _Almost_ good enough. Tell me exactly what you need.”

“I…I need…” She takes a deep breath. “I need to come, Hilda, really really bad. I need to get off, to climax, to orgasm, to—ah!”

In the middle of her sputtering, Hilda brings the vibrator in once more, and this time, she doesn’t pull it away. She moans, desperately, pressing her hips up against it to try to garner as much sensation as she can, trying to put herself over the edge, but as soon as she moves up, so does Hilda. “Hey, Mari, that’s no good. We’re going at _my_ pace,” she chastises, and Marianne whines pitifully once more.

But Hilda’s a woman of her word. Slowly, achingly, _painfully_ slowly, she works Marianne back up to that peak again. It doesn’t take long, she’s sure, but it feels like it takes an eternity.

“Hilda,” she squeaks, gripping the sheets. “I’m so, so close. I’m almost there, Hilda!”

“Hmm…” Hilda muses. “Say please.”

“Please!”

“Pretty please?”

Marianne’s on the verge of tears again, and manages to whimper it out. “Pretty please?”

Hilda chuckles. “With a cherry on top?”

“ _Hilda!_ ”

“Alright, alright. Come for me, Mari. Show me what I do to you.”

That’s all it takes. Marianne lets her control falter for just, _just_ a moment, and her orgasm blows through her like a tsunami. She cries out, writhing on the bed, yanking at her bindings, bucking her hips, she’s pretty sure her vision even goes dark for a moment, but with the blindfold on, it’s hard to tell. It feels so, so good. It always does, after she’s edged for a while, but it’s never easy to get there.

She finishes eventually, going limp onto the bed, panting from exhaustion, and once she finally stills herself and evens out her breathing, she realizes that there’s an arm around her back. It’s Hilda, she notes, Hilda held her as she came down, and she’s so grateful for that. The vibrator turns off, and she hears it clatter to the floor beside the bed, seconds before her blindfold gets lifted off. Hilda undoes the clasps on her wrist and ankle cuffs as well, and Marianne pulls her limbs in tight, snuggling into Hilda’s waiting embrace.

Her partner strokes her hair, gently, easily, in a way that bespeaks familiarity. “Good girl, Marianne. You did so good. You held it back until I told you to come for me, and I’m so, so proud of you.”

Marianne’s eyes are damp with tears, and she shudders as another aftershock from her climax flows weakly through her. “Thank you,” she mumbles, her voice soft as a result of exhaustion, more than overwhelming emotion.

“You want some water, sweet girl?” Hilda asks. “Washcloth, maybe?”

She shakes her head, nuzzling in closer to Hilda. “In a minute. Right now, I just want to be here.”

Hilda hums, happily, wrapping her arms around Marianne to keep her held tight. “You’re the boss, Mari.”

“Thank you, Hilda. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

If Marianne could pick one single moment of her life to experience forever, it would probably be this one. She struggles not to fall asleep, because she _does_ need to drink some water soon, but it’s a difficult task, because Marianne doesn’t think she’s ever felt more warm, content, and so, very loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you would like to follow me on twitter, find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite). Also, check out the rest of the prompts for the week [here](https://twitter.com/marihildansfw/status/1314593432728469513?s=20)!


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